


Amante de la Lluvia

by Fire_Bear



Series: EngSpa Week 2016 [6]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Dancing, Dancing in the Rain, Day 6, EngSpa Week 2016, M/M, Nudity, Partially Public Nudity, Rain, Tea, canonverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 12:10:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7844374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Bear/pseuds/Fire_Bear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a rainy day and Spain is content to watch it in England's conservatory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amante de la Lluvia

**Author's Note:**

> Please forgive my horrible Spanish. Because I got this from Google Translate. I hope it’s right because my Spanish is actually limited to single words and not phrases.
> 
> This is for the prompts #2 (afternoon tea), #3 (Coffee, books and rain - perfect day!) and #91 (Pluviophile). #26 actually also applies which is the Spanish dancing/flamenco dancing/whatever’s going on in that picture…
> 
> (Also, I wrote this and read this over in the last, like, 4/5 hours. Record!)

At some point, England had added a conservatory onto his house.

When Spain first saw it, he thought it looked like England. That was the only way he could describe it in words, at least. There were cosy chairs, perfect for curling up in with a book, little tables at their sides so people could easily reach their drinks. Pride of place, however, was a long, low couch with a table before it. There was a perfect view of the garden with its flowers and neat lawn. The first time he had sat there, Spain had stared at the garden for hours, watching the birds and squirrels and the occasional cat go about their lives.

It seemed the type of thing that an English person would use only when it was sunny: shielded from any biting winds or the harsh heat of the day, they could see their garden without discomfort. On dull days, he supposed they would find something else to occupy their time. After all, most British people went to him for their holidays to get away from their weather so he doubted they would stay to watch it.

So it surprised Spain when he discovered that England used his conservatory every day for his afternoon tea. He said it was a welcome change to the rooms he had been using the past few centuries. Whenever Spain visited, England would have an array of delicious-looking cakes set up at exactly three o'clock with a pot of tea for him and a coffee pot for Spain. Their conversation was always light and cheerful and sometimes nostalgic. Spain found they were always smiling during their afternoon tea. When they ran out of things to talk about, Spain would watch the garden and England would draw out the latest book he was reading, bury his nose in it and curl up beside him within easy reach if Spain wanted cuddles.

One particular day, the heavens had opened just as England poured the first cups of tea and coffee. Spain kept watching it as they spoke, the conversation soon drying up due to his distraction. Out of the corner of his eye he saw England give him a strange look and reach for his book, content with the silence for the moment. Relieved, Spain let the rain keep his attention, watching the drops hit the long windows and slide down them. The garden itself seemed to still, birds keeping to the shelter rather than fluttering around the bird-table.

The reason for his attention was simple: Spain loved the rain. He wasn't sure why but he had always felt so comforted by it. The sound when it hit the windows or the fabric of tents had always sounded soothing to him. Watching it drip from leaves and flowers made him happy, gleeful. Feeling it on his skin was another bonus, cooling his warm body.

Sighing with content, Spain instinctively wrapped his arms around England and pulled him close so he could cuddle. England wriggled a little until they were both comfortable and he could still reach his tea. He continued reading for a while until he reached a certain point and he set it aside to turn to Spain. As if coming out of a trance, Spain blinked at him.

“What on Earth is wrong?” England asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” Spain said, truthfully.

“You've been acting strange since the rain started. If you want to go home, I don't blame you.”

“What? No! I love the rain!”

It was England's turn to blink in surprise. “Really?”

Spain nodded eagerly. “Really. Don't you?”

“I wouldn't say I _love_ it,” England answered with a shrug. “I _tolerate_ it. I'm used to it, I suppose.” He looked out the window, watching the deluge. “I suppose, without people worshipping things like that any more, I barely notice it. Everyone here goes about their business and we all ignore it.”

“You don't pause to take it in?” asked Spain, incredulously. “I mean, look at it – you can practically see all your plants drinking it in. Es hermoso. And listen to that music!”

“Music?” England scoffed. “Spain, you're being daft. It just sounds like rain to me.”

Spain pouted. “You're mocking me.”

“A little,” England agreed with a smirk.

Pouting more, Spain shunted England from his side and stood. England looked alarmed for a moment but Spain smiled and he held out his hand. Clearly puzzled, England hesitantly took it. Spain pulled him to his feet and took him to the space in front of the conservatory door. There, he put one hand on England's waist and held his other in a soft, firm grip. 

“Let me show you,” he murmured, smiling as England rolled his eyes but went along with his request and put his hand on Spain's shoulder. 

Once they were situated, Spain began a waltz. The slow pace matched the droplets rolling down the windows. He explained that to England who raised his eyebrows but watched them as they danced. After a moment, he sighed and said, “All right. I suppose you  _could_ say that...”

“Bueno. Now, this is the rain.”

With that, Spain picked up the pace, turning around almost twice as fast as before. He heard England gasp even as he expertly kept up with him. Spain spun England under his arm a couple of times, the nation managing to stay on his feet. Quickly, Spain suddenly spun England away and back to him again before stepping forward and back, England mimicking him. Then he spun England away from him completely, completed a few fast steps on his own while England seemed to orient himself and then ducked back in to grab England again. After a few more steps forward and back, Spain decided to let England rest and finished by leaning England backwards. Instinctively, England hooked a leg around Spain's hip to keep himself from falling, making Spain smile.

“See?” he asked.

England blinked up at him, chest heaving. “Ah. Yes, actually. I do. That's... an interesting way of looking at the rain.”

Happy, Spain let him up and pecked his flushed cheek. Glancing behind England, he watched the rain for a moment before smiling dreamily. “Ah, I wish I could dance in it.”

“You want to dance in the rain?” Spain nodded to England's question and his lover shrugged a shoulder. “If you want to, go ahead. I'll go find a towel so you don't drip on the floor when you come back in.”

As England moved by him, Spain had a sudden idea and he spun to catch England by his elbow. “Dance with me, por favor!” he cried, excitedly.

“No,” said England, firmly. “I don't want my clothes getting wet.”

“Don't wear any.” Spain's eyes widened at his words and his smile grew. “Let's dance naked!”

Freezing, England stared at Spain as if he was crazy. Then he glanced out of the window, at his tea and then to the side. His eyes glazed over as he thought and Spain knew he was imagining it; it was exactly the look he had had when Spain had asked whether he should make breakfast in nothing but an apron once. Grinning, Spain knew he had won when England's cheeks turned red again and he glanced furtively at Spain.

“Fine,” sighed England. “But I need to get some things first.” He hurried off and it wasn't long before he returned with a tea cosy, a couple of towels and two blankets. “I can't believe you're interrupting my afternoon tea for  _rain_ ,” he grumbled.

“I'll make it up to you a hundred times over,” Spain swore.

England snorted. “Just... hurry up about it.” He pulled off the sweater he had been wearing. “I'm just glad the hedges are tall enough...”

Spain laughed and quickly stripped. He had finished long before England and had to wait, watching England calmly unbuckle his belt. Hopping from foot to foot, he whined and England sighed. He picked up the pace, though, and soon both of them were completely naked. Spain took a brief moment to take in England's pale body, complete with his share of scars. He briefly eyed the one which always made his heart clench: the large one which looked like a burn right over his heart. 

Taking a breath, England walked over and deftly unlocked the door, startling Spain from his reverie. Then, like the gentleman he was, England held the door open for Spain. Grinning, Spain skipped out into the rain, feeling free without his clothes. The rain was cold as it hit him, making his hair stick to his forehead and running down his body in rivulets. He spun, arms wide, as he made his way to the lawn, revelling in the feel of the water cascading down his body. When he reached the lawn, he danced a little, shaking his hips and turning so he could face England.

The other nation looked miserable. He was hunched in on himself, shivering slightly as he tried to shield his face from the rain without appearing to. His arms were folded across his chest, almost as if he was hugging himself for warmth. England stepped onto the lawn and squinted up at Spain.

Giving England a happy grin, Spain took his hands and spun him around, making him dance to the hissing of the rain. Somewhere, the rain was hitting something metal and it rang out clear across the garden. Spain could also hear the steady beats of drips from the gutter. He sped up the dance, England slowly beginning to loosen up and follow his lead. 

Laughing, Spain began to change the dance. Pulling England to him, he waltzed with him before tangoing and then switching to a flamenco. Of course, England kept up with him, his dancing perfect despite the situation. Soon, both Spain and England were grinning, sending water flying as they went this way and that.

Finally, even Spain had run out of energy and they came together into a slow dance, swaying to and fro. “See?” Spain whispered to his lover. “I have good ideas at times.”

“At times,” England agreed. There was a short pause, nothing but the rain around them. “As much as I don't want to move quite yet,” England added, “I think we had better get inside. We can warm up with the tea.”

“Sí,” Spain replied. “I think this has been the best afternoon tea I've been here for.”

“Oh?” said England, his tone teasing. “Not even the time after we'd been apart for two months?”

Spain thought back to that event and the sight of England on his knees, smirking, making innuendos about his precious afternoon tea. It made him shudder and bite his lip. “Well,” he said, looking down at the 'innocent' England, “it didn't involve rain.”

There was a glint in England's eye as he drew away from Spain. “Oh, I  _see_ . I think we can-” He broke off as he sneezed. Surprised, he blinked at Spain who stifled a laugh.

“That tea is sounding rather enticing,” Spain told him and grabbed his hand to drag him to the house – back to the towels and blankets and the best afternoon tea ever, in Spain's opinion.

**Author's Note:**

> Spain and England are meant to be dancing a paso doble which is a Spanish one-step dance. Most of the Spanish dances I looked up didn’t have much… touching. You know, like in the waltz where you stay connected which is what I was looking for. Ah, well.


End file.
